The Bartenstein Case/Chapter 25
CHAPTER V
THE HOUSE IN ST. JOHN'S WOOD
Of all people most concerned in this final stage of what had seemed to him a most extraordinary mystery, Inspector Dwayne felt most pity for Anthony Berridge's daughter. He had been quite sure, when he and Mitchell visited the house in Dermiston Road, that hers was a life of great sorrow, and he saw now that she had had more trouble to bear than she had given them any idea of. And with the charitable intention of doing anything that he could to help her, or, at least, of giving her a soothing word, he waited until she left her father. It was not long before she came away from the old man, and she looked very sad and cast down. Inspector Dwayne beckoned her into a quiet room.
"You mustn't take on too much, Miss Berridge," he said, wishing to reassure her. "He'll have every care taken of him, you may be sure. And, between you and me, I don't think you need fear the worst, for it's my opinion that his—well, that his mind's seriously affected."
Miss Berridge sat down in the chair which he placed for her. She looked at him anxiously.
"Mr. Dwayne," she said, "do you—do you really think he did it? Do you really think that—you, yourself?"
"You mean, not officially, but in my private capacity?" said the Inspector. "I'm afraid I do. You see, he is a very old man, very excitable, and, like many old people, apt to be childishly vindictive if angered. I think that his mind was quite unbalanced by his discovery in Bond Street the other day, and that, when he found himself in Bartenstein's study, he lost all control over himself—and it happened. I can quite believe that his mind became a blank immediately afterwards."
Miss Berridge seemed thoughtful.
"But surely," she said, "the evidence shows that the crime was premeditated—that Mr. Bartenstein was struck down unawares. How could my father have entered the room, seized the sword-stick, and killed his victim without the victim being aware of his presence? It seems impossible."
"You never can tell, Miss Berridge," answered the Inspector. "In that state of mind he would do anything. He is naturally cunning—he may have gained the room, armed himself, and waited for Bartenstein's coming: you must remember that, from what he told us just now, he was in a state of terrible rage. I suppose that was all true about—about your sister, Miss Berridge?"
"It was true as regards her sudden disappearance, Mr. Dwayne," she replied, in a low voice. "Oh yes, that was true."
"Do you remember Bartenstein coming to the house in Dermiston Road?" he inquired.
"Yes—he came altogether four times," she answered. "I remember it quite well."
"Did you ever connect your sister's disappearance with him, then?" asked the Inspector.
"No, I did not," she replied, "because she did not leave home until a long time—quite six months—after Mr. Bartenstein's last visit."
"Did you ever notice that he paid her any special attention, Miss Berridge?" he said. "Did he seem to admire her?"
"I never observed it," she answered. "He was polite—I thought him a very polished man—but, you know, he was not there long. He only called to see the old china and glass."
"I suppose your sister was a very beautiful woman?" said Inspector Dwayne. Miss Berridge's face grew sadder than ever.
"She was a very beautiful girl, Mr. Dwayne," she replied with emphasis. "My sister is only twenty-two now."
Inspector Dwayne uttered a sharp exclamation.
"I see—I see!" he said. "I had fancied———"
"That she was more of my age?" said Miss Berridge a little bitterly. "Oh no, she is nearly twenty years my junior."
The Inspector considered these matters a little.
"Of course all this bears on the question," he said. "I wonder if she really did run away with Bartenstein! Was she—pardon me for asking such particular questions, but you will understand my reason—was she a frivolous girl?"
"No!" answered Miss Berridge. "She was not frivolous, nor light—she had had no opportunity to be either, for we knew little of society—but she was very fond of pleasure, and if there had been the chance would have liked to go to the theatres, and to dances, and so on. I remember that, during the six months before she suddenly left home, she used to go out a great deal of an afternoon, and occasionally in the evening. My father allowed her to do exactly what she pleased."
"Ah, that's when she would go to meet Bartenstein, no doubt," said the Inspector. "I don't know that we shan't have to find her somehow, Miss Berridge. You see, in your father's interest———"
"There's a district messenger-boy wanting you, Inspector," said an official, putting his head into the room. "Got a letter for you."
Inspector Dwayne went out into the corridor and was handed an envelope which seemed to contain two hard substances. Opening it, he found himself gazing at two small keys of some unusual patent, around which was wrapped a sheet of note-paper, evidently taken from the Hotel Cecil. It contained some words in a large, bold, feminine hand, which the Inspector there and then read.
So that the real truth about the Bartenstein case may be known, and this matter be at an end, will Inspector Dwayne come to La Certosa, Grove End Road, St. John's Wood, this afternoon at four o'clock, and bring Miss Berridge with him? The enclosed keys will admit to the garden and house.M. B."Who gave you this, my lad?" asked the Inspector.
"Lady in a taxi in the Cecil courtyard," answered the messenger promptly. "Rang up for two of us."
"Two of you? Where did she send the other?" demanded the Inspector.
"Dunno, sir; she sent me off first," replied the lad.
"All right," said the Inspector. He took the keys and the note into the room where Miss Berridge awaited him, and laid the note before her. "Do you know whose handwriting that is?" he asked her.
Miss Berridge started.
"Oh yes!" she exclaimed. "It is my sister's—Mabel's. Oh, Mr. Dwayne, what does this mean?"
"Don't know," said the Inspector, looking at his watch. "But I shall most certainly go there and find out. And you must come with me. It's getting on to three now, Miss Berridge—let me take you to get a little lunch or a cup of tea, and then we'll drive up there. And I wonder," he thought as he led his charge out, "I wonder what we're going to hear when we get there!"
An hour later Inspector Dwayne and Miss Berridge alighted from a taxi-cab at the bottom of Grove End Road and walked along, looking for La Certosa, and they had not proceeded very far when a hansom came up alongside them and stopped. From it descended Lieutenant Lauderdale; inside it they saw Miss Oxenham, looking somewhat anxious and concerned.
"Good afternoon, Inspector," said Lauderdale. "Had you any knowledge that you were to meet Miss Oxenham and myself here?"
The Inspector was as much surprised as he had been when Lauderdale walked into his room at Scotland Yard.
"Knowledge, sir? No, sir!" he answered. "I am a good deal puzzled myself as to why I am here. What brought you here?"
"This," replied Lauderdale, handing him a note, written, like the Inspector's summons, on a sheet of Hotel Cecil paper. "It was delivered at Sir Nicholas Oxenham's about an hour ago."
Inspector Dwayne read this communication over. It simply said:
Will Lieutenant Lauderdale and Miss Oxenham kindly meet Inspector Dwayne in Grove End Road, St. John's Wood, a little before four o'clock this afternoon?
And it was in the handwriting which Miss Berridge identified as her sister's. The Inspector handed it back.
"We didn't know what to do," remarked Lauderdale, "but we thought we had better come. Sounds very mysterious, don't you think?"
"We'll soon solve the mystery, sir, for here is the house," answered the Inspector. "Now, I think you ladies had better remain outside while the Lieutenant and I just find out why we were brought here. Miss Oxenham, this lady is Miss Berridge, the daughter of the poor old gentleman who . . . you understand," concluded the Inspector with a meaning look. "Now, sir, you come with me."
He admitted Lauderdale and himself with one of the keys; they entered and passed through a quiet garden, tastefully and prettily kept, and in another minute were within the house. In the hall the Inspector gave his companion a brief account of what had been told him by old Berridge and his daughter, and of the note which had reached him with the keys.
"And here we are, and why, I don't know, sir," he said; "but—we're going to learn something, you mark my words."
They looked into the various rooms on the ground floor—beautifully appointed rooms which were silent and empty.
"It's an uncanny quietness," whispered the Inspector. "I don't like it. Let's go upstairs."
Lauderdale did not like it either, but he followed Inspector Dwayne up the softly carpeted staircase. The Inspector made for the room overlooking the garden. He opened the door, looked in, gave one glance at the interior, and turned a warning face to his companion.
"Pull yourself together, sir!" he whispered. "She's here—and I'm afraid she's dead!"
A moment later and the two men stood looking down on the still face of a beautiful woman. She had dressed herself all in white, and had placed flowers on either side of her, and her face was peaceful. She looked, indeed, as if she had fallen asleep. Her hands were clasped across her bosom, and near them lay a paper, written over, which Inspector Dwayne presently took up and read, holding it so that his companion could also read. The words were few:
This is the only end that could be. My father is quite innocent, and the one reparation I can make him is to tell the truth and go. I am glad to go.
It was I who killed Marcus Bartenstein. He told me, quite suddenly that day, that what I had believed until then—that I was his wife—was not so, and that he was going to marry a girl with whom he had long been in love. After that I think I went mad. Yet I know how calm and, eventually, determined I was.
It was very easy to do. I had a key of the turret door, and I was hidden behind the curtain when he came in with Mr. Lauderdale. If he had said then that he should pursue that marriage no further I might have relented. But he let Mr. Lauderdale see by his manner that he meant to have his way. I knew him.
After Mr. Lauderdale had gone he took out the girl's portrait and looked at it and laughed. That decided me. He sat down at his desk to write. His back was towards me. It was easy, so easy, to do it.
That is all. Ask my father and my sister to forgive me—and to forget me. ·····
Inspector Dwayne drew Lauderdale out of the room. "This is no place for your young lady, sir," he said in a hushed voice. "Ask Miss Berridge to come inside, and then take Miss Oxenham away."
Lauderdale crossed the garden and delivered his message with a whispered word of preparation to the already stricken woman. Then he re-entered the hansom and bade the man go back to Sussex Square.
"Oh, Jack," cried Millicent as they drove off, "what is it? What brought us here? Is there more mystery—more trouble?"
Lauderdale took her hand in his.
"No, dear," he answered tenderly, thinking of what he had just seen. "The mystery and the trouble's all over now!"
THE END